Dont Fuck My Wife

As I exited her bedroom after having fucked Samatha three times to finally render her comatose the most serene feeling of my life washed over me like a gentle wave in the Caribbean. All that was left was the complete humiliation of that asshole that started me on my quest.

Sorry, I was just thinking back on one of the most satisfying experiences of my life and I know that you have no idea what I'm talking about so let me give you the background before I relate my tale.

At the time this story started I (my name is Jeremy) was thirty two years old. I had been married to a wonderful woman named Claire, two years my junior, for five years, no kids. Claire was (and is) a beautiful young woman. She has a cheery smile, sparkling green eyes, and flowing auburn hair down just past her shoulders. Her Kate Middleton/Duchess of Cambridge nose highlights her beautiful face. She also has a long athletic body with medium sized puffy nipple breasts. She is someone that everyone would consider beautiful.

Claire also has an enormously high libido. I have been fortunate to be the recipient of phenomenal sex with her because of it. If life didn't otherwise get in the way I do believe that she would fuck me all day every day, and every fuck with her is other-worldly.

Claire also gets high scores on IQ tests and got great grades in school, including difficult mathematics courses in college; but as everyone knows that doesn't guarantee common sense or a number of other intangibles that allow one to thrive in the real world. If you give Claire a statistics problem she'll solve it quickly and correctly, but if you ask her to size up someone's personality she likely will get it wrong.

In other words, Claire had one major fault. She was too anxious to please and way, way too gullible and trusting. I never took advantage of her naivety unlike many of her acquaintances, both male and female, and tried my best to protect her. Of course I couldn't always protect her because I couldn't be with her 24/7, especially since my job required me to travel three or four days a month. I especially tried hard to insulate her from guys with immoral agendas.

I'm 6'2" tall, 180 pounds, and while I wasn't very good in sports requiring high hand-eye coordination I am athletic in track and field sporting events. I have competed in the decathlon in college and even finished fifth at the Olympic trials after my senior year in college. I was almost in as good a shape at thirty two as I was when I graduated college, and still am today.

Even though I don't consider myself good looking I have been pursued by women my entire life. I don't know what qualities I have that make women respond to me, and Claire isn't perceptive enough to offer any insight in that regard. However, I've been told by many women that my smile, deferential manner, and body language really make them feel comfortable, respected, and important. Also, in all humility, the women I have had sex with have universally told me that I'm a great fuck.

Claire was about the only woman I had ever dated who didn't pursue me, which I considered a desirable change and what -- besides her beauty -- was one of the things that first attracted me to her. When I got to experience her wonderful personality, and had sex with her, I fell head-over-heels in love with her, and still am today.

One of many guys who had an evil agenda that I tried to protect Claire from was her boss' boss, Clayton Morris. He was 45 with salt and pepper hair, a little taller and more muscular than I am but not nearly in as good a shape, and a wise ass. He seemed to always be sniffing Claire's ass.

My problem that I needed to remedy started when I was on a four day trip in May, 2011. I called Claire on a Thursday night and couldn't get ahold of her. When I called her Friday late afternoon just before I boarded my plane on my way home she didn't have any real explanation about why I couldn't get ahold of her Thursday night -- people who are as trusting as Claire is are poor liars.

I could tell that there was something bothering Claire when she picked me up at the airport and on the drive home. I asked her if there was something wrong and she denied it, and then made an obvious effort to "act normal." Usually when I get back home after a trip we fuck each other's brains out but for one of only a handful of times in our entire married life she didn't respond to my advances and said she was feeling poorly. I did snuggle her the entire night although I could tell that she didn't sleep well, and in turn that meant that I didn't sleep well. Even with an almost sleepless night I didn't come up with a really good way to find out what was bothering her.

Saturday we played golf together, and ate lunch with two of Claire's female friends. After lunch I got each of them alone and asked if they knew what was bothering Claire; they both confirmed that they sensed that something was wrong but neither one had any clue what it was.

When we got home after lunch Claire showered while I puttered around the garden, then I showered. As I exited the bathroom I found her sitting on our bed crying. Obviously only the direct approach would work, so with a towel around my waist I sat next to her, held her hands and said "Claire, what's wrong? You have to tell me."

"You'll hate me forever," she sobbed.

"Claire, there is very little chance of that," I replied, "unless you broke my favorite sand wedge," trying to introduce a little levity into the situation. That didn't work as she sobbed harder.

"Please Claire, tell me; my love for you is deeper than the ocean; but it's killing me seeing you in pain."

"I cheated...sob..on..sob..you," she moaned, then almost fell to the floor in tears.

About the last thing that I expected; but as I told her I truly loved her and unless this was a situation where she had fallen in love with someone else it didn't mean the end of our relationship.

I let her cry for another minute or so then lifted her up on the bed, gently grabbed her chin and turned her head so that she faced me and as calmly as possible said "Tell me about it; who, where, when and why."

Apparently my calm demeanor, masking my inner turmoil, allowed her to regain most of her composure within a short time.

"I'm so sorry, I love you so much," she started out.

"And I love you too Claire; but you need to tell me who, where, when and why."

"Thursday afternoon Clayton Morris asked if I could do an important special job for him but that it would probably take until 7:30 or 8:00. I said OK since you were out of town."

Classic Claire naiveté, telling a pussy-sniffing asshole like Clayton that her husband was out of town, I mused. "Go on," I earnestly said squeezing her hands.

"He told me that I did a great job and that it really helped the company; several times he rubbed my shoulders when I was working and I should have told him flat out to stop, but I didn't, I don't know why, maybe because he's my boss' boss. Anyway he said since you were out of town he'd treat me to dinner."

Poor clueless Claire , I thought.

"Well at dinner the wine was really good, and he was very nice, and I had way too much to drink, a lot more than he did. He said I was in no condition to drive and that he'd let me sleep in the condo that the company owns in the building next to our office, so he drove me there and went up with me on the elevator."

Even less sophisticated than I imagined rolled through my brain.

"Well, when we got up to the condo he got real aggressive and I tried to push him away but then he started rubbing my pussy through my clothes, and you know how that makes me feel."

Yeah, I do I said to myself, normally three strokes and she's ready to ride me cowgirl.

"Well he just wouldn't stop, and I was feeling so mellow with the wine and all, that I just stopped fighting it. He kept constantly rubbing my pussy as he pulled my panties down and removed my top, and the next thing I knew he had bent me over a chair and stuck me with his cock."

That's when I gulped really hard and she started sobbing again. I continued to maintain my composure, squeezing a hand and stroking the side of her face. She finally continued.

"I'm so sorry, but it felt good and I started banging back and squeezing his cock with my pussy and he unloaded inside me. After that he removed the rest of my clothes and we went to sleep in the condo bed."

Inwardly I was really agitated but still was able to appear composed.

""Then early in the morning I felt my pussy being rubbed again, and my clit being massaged, and I was disoriented. I realized that it was Mr. Morris and not you, but I let him fuck me again, because he made me feel so good. After that I went back to sleep and when I woke up about seven he was gone. I got dressed, drove home, showered and douched, changed, and went in to work hoping to avoid him. Fortunately he had left to go out of town."

I was stunned; I probably had a blank look on my face.

"I'm so sorry' I feel so awful' I hate myself; I love you; please, please forgive me," were some of the things Claire wailed after collapsing on my lap.

We probably remained in that position for twenty minutes, Claire weeping as she laid across my lap and me instinctively stroking her head and shoulder. I used every ounce of will power I had to not jump up and start screaming at her and throwing things around. I don't know why but then a sudden tranquility came over me.

A naïve high libido wife is seduced by an unscrupulous evil predatory bastard. Wine, his position as her boss, and circumstances rob her of what little common sense she has. I could understand how it could happen.

Consistent with her personality and what I knew to be her true love for me she had voluntarily told me what had happened and begged forgiveness. I had to think things out but consistent with my love for her I had to tell her that I would eventually forgive her. I lifted her off my lap into a sitting position and looked her in the eye.

"You really are pathetic, Claire. I never cease to be amazed how someone with your intelligence and problem-solving ability can be so fucking stupid when it comes to judging people. I need some time to think so I'm going to leave now and return Sunday morning, but I want you to know that this is NOT -- I repeat NOT -- the end of our marriage. I love you too much and will eventually forgive you, but I need to work things out because I can't just forget that it happened. Understand."

"Yes," she softly replied, wiping away tears.

"I want you to go to the spa and get a full treatment, massage, manicure, pedicure, facial, the works, but I don't want you to otherwise leave the house until I get back tomorrow. Order a slapstick comedy on pay per view and have some takeout delivered to you for dinner. Are you willing to do that?"

"I'm willing to do whatever you say."

"I hope so," I replied. I kissed her on the forehead then immediately got dressed and left without another word.

I drove to a resort about fifty miles from our house, got a room, went swimming, soaked in the hot tub, and walked around the grounds. The other guests seemed to be very friendly, and a number of women at the pool and in the hot tub in particular initiated conservations with me and seemed very flirtatious, even with their husbands giving them and me dirty looks. I eventually went to my room to be alone with my thoughts, and concentrated hard on evaluating a full range of possible actions on my part.

Of course the first option that came to mind was kicking the shit out of Clayton. Even though he was bigger and more muscular than I was since I was in much better shape and was much more highly motivated the chances were excellent that I would be able to beat him senseless. That would only provide temporary gratification, however, and I'd end up with some pain too, and might end up in jail if I got carried away. No dice!

I could have Claire file a sexual harassment suit against Clayton. That would require her to testify, though, and she simply did not have the personality to carry that off properly and it could end up being a disaster. Even if it eventually worked out I would go through significant pain myself if we pursued that option.

Then it hit me. Use my natural abilities in a way that wouldn't cause me pain but enormous satisfaction while causing Clayton enormous long-lasting anxiety.

I got home early Sunday morning. Claire rushed up to me and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. I'm sure that despite what I had told her she wasn't sure that she would see me again. After giving her only a perfunctory hug and kisses I gently pushed her away and said "We've got to talk."

I spoke calmly and with the most pleasant tone that I could muster. As I looked her in the eye I said "I have arrived at a plan of action. I hope that you will agree to it. If you do we eventually will be back to where we were when I left on my trip Tuesday. I'll forgive you completely and unequivocally and what happened Thursday will have no effect whatsoever on our relationship."

"Yes, please, anything," Claire whined.

"Wait and hear me out before you agree to anything," I chided.

"OK," she demurely responded.

"You never go back to work at that place. You send a fax to your boss resigning, copying Clayton Morris, saying that they need to waive your two week notice requirement, pay you everything you're entitled to and provide honest recommendations to other employers, concluding with 'I hope that this will be acceptable because otherwise my employment termination will be very, very unpleasant.'"

"OK," Claire replied, wide-eyed.

"There will be some times probably over the next year that I will not be home without a good reason; it will be because I am doing something to exact revenge on Morris without demanding that you file a sexual harassment suit. You cannot question me about it, and I will never provide an explanation. Agreed?"

"Yes," Claire answered, even more wide-eyed.

"You will make every effort to put this behind you but will learn a valuable lesson from it and if anything even the least bit suspicious comes up in the future you will call me and not do anything until after you have talked to me."

"Of course; I have learned something, Jeremy, I promise."

"Great, now let's go out to brunch and then take in a baseball game."

With that I stood up, gave her a real hug that she reciprocated and that lasted a good five minutes, we got dressed and were off.

That night when we got back from the baseball game I stripped her, mauled her in the shower, and then attacked her in bed. With every digit, my lips, and tongue I worked her into a frenzy by manipulating her pussy lips, sucking on her clit, and tongue fucking her cunt. After her first orgasm I put on a G-spot "lust finger" and went after her most sensitive body part. Claire had the most sensual G-spot, by far, of any woman I had ever had sex with. I had used this "accessory" on her only once before and within seconds she had an earth-shattering orgasm; her pussy contracted so violently that it almost broke my middle finger.

Once Claire came down from her second orgasm I turned her on her hands and knees, buried myself in one thrust, and banged her through another orgasm before I ejaculated one of my all-time loads into her.

I was awakened in the middle of the night by Claire sucking my cock, after which she mounted me and rode me cowgirl harder than she ever had before while I finger fucked her ass. In the morning after we both went to the washroom while I was sitting on the edge of the mattress I pulled her to me, she wrapped her thighs around my torso, I buried my cock in her still soaking wet pussy, and we both undulated our pelvises as energetically as we could resulting in another outrageous simultaneous orgasm.

All of Claire's co-workers, including her immediate boss, were devastated by her resignation, and it left the company in the lurch since she was one of the most valued employees. Pursuant to my instructions, however, when her immediate boss called and begged to know why she told him "The reason will only come out if my two week notice waiver is not granted and any payment that I am due is not made, or I get less than favorable recommendations."

I'm sure her immediate boss knew that something was up after being told that, and told by Morris to do as Claire asked, but he wasn't going to rock the boat. Also pursuant to my instructions Claire didn't answer the phone when Morris' number came up on caller ID; he gave up after the third unanswered call.

Since Claire really is a star in statistics, and since her old company followed through with giving her the recommendation she deserved, she had a new job, even with a slight raise, within three weeks. In her new job both her immediate boss and her boss's boss were women, pleasing me.

I immediately started gathering as much information about Clayton Morris as I could, some helpful, some not, but I wanted a complete picture. He was married with two children, a boy 15, a girl 17; he had a married sister and married brother, and both of his parents were living. All members of the family lived in different suburbs of the same city as we did. Morris belonged to a country club where his wife was social chairman, he golfed most weekends and regularly went on hunting trips. His parents were big contributors to political candidates and often hosted fund raisers, and his sister-in-law was a member of the council in the county that she and his brother lived in.

Morris' house was in "horse country," and his family owned two horses that various family members rode. He was the vice-president of the local chamber of commerce, had season tickets to our city's professional hockey team, and was part owner, with his sister, of a downtown restaurant.

Since part of my plan was to get enjoyment over the next year I was pleased to run across an attractive woman by the name of Julia when playing golf. She and a female friend of hers, and me and a male country club member friend of mine, happened to be at the same course on a relatively crowded day and got together as a foursome. Since Julia and I seemed to be hooking the ball all of the time and our friends both seemed to be slicing after a few holes we switched club bags on the carts and Julia rode with me the rest of the course.

Julia was probably in her early forties and had a few pounds on her hips that I'm sure she didn't have when she was younger but she had an attractive face, shapely thighs, and big tits. I turned on whatever mysterious charm I have and after we finished playing golf and we had lunch together, sans friends, she seemed to be enamored with me. We made arrangements to meet for a swim the next day.

When we did meet the next day I was pleased that her big tits were natural -- there was no mistaking that in the revealing suit that she wore. She was very touchy as we sat by the side of the pool, and got more so as she consumed more mint juleps. When we both needed to get back to our spouses I maneuvered her into a secluded corner and stroked my hands over her arms, "inadvertently" contacting her tits a couple of times. I suggested that the next Saturday morning we go to a public course about fifteen miles out in the country which had beautiful scenery and "play a few holes." She readily agreed and we kissed goodbye -- not a platonic kiss, but one with some tongue.

The next week I went to a motel near the course and rented a room for Friday night and paid for three p.m. checkout on Saturday. Dog that I am I installed a motion and sound activated video camera, with audio, that would record what I hoped to be a hot sex session with Julia.